John Milton wrote Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. After he died, his soul looked all around like a baby crying for the mother for seven days. The guardian angels took his soul to a world as per his belief patterns in after life. He was dumbfounded to see and find nothing as he believed or taught in his flesh. Every thing is different after death. The guardian angels took care of his doubts.

Then decide for peace with or wars in nations

Spell out yea or nay or both in steady notions;

Kids envisioned the edge and said with one voice,

Give us last chance; we will find him with choice

They ran to the archives; found those epics of John Milton;

Deccan fig; they shouted in joy and rent the drama Curtain

Greenroom baby falls plumped in all directions

Invited JM to greenroom to decode all dictions

The shows ended, they said, what profit we get

If He takes us to him, we’ll go find him and let

Our mission continues to lead him astray before time’s up,

Fathers failed are ready to accept defeat, we don’t give up

Now tell us where Deccan fig is and who they are,

How you knew, that we buy them in blood bazaar,

Test them, if they are of Ephraim and we’ll launch;

Not fathers’ might, sons’ power but spirits staunch

Fake and raze them in the guise of Haman Agagites

He will take us for Ephraim, give us kingdom rights

This is our last attempt, let us not down

Oh Son of Man! Live up to your crown

Glorify these sons as you did to papas

Reveal Deccan Figs in Diaspora Atlas

The eschatology of hell is in thy terms!

Let us play victors like the viral germs

Reproduce ultimate Theology,

With more mouths of analogy

Split in sects, beliefs and verses

To see or hear nothing reverses;

Never to unite in heart or spirit

But to grow more in cultic writ

To say that and do this in contrast;

Attract their color or classical cast

To wait in little Faith Lakes,

With designed Godly Cakes

To grow in misinterpretations

And sickening denominations

And live independently with freedom from slavery

To other beings as fellow beings with live bravery

Let this horrid game put to an end

When the fathers do agree to bend

To publicly recognize us as equals evolved

And not as created lives any more, unloved;

This will make Ephraim lost in human nations

As we fake his Kingdom and spend his rations;

And show these dictator rulers the authentic father’s love,

When He leaves His abode for Ephraim his beloved dove,

He’d given them promise that He would seek and find them;

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